


run on a nonstandard port

by entanglement



Category: Mr. Robot (TV)
Genre: Animal Death, Gen, takes place late in the prison arc, writing warm up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-09-14 02:43:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9155074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/entanglement/pseuds/entanglement
Summary: you always remember the ominous ones





	

It's cold when Elliot wakes and a gust of air somehow swirls its way in and chills him down to the bone.

He's sitting up, reclining against a wall. The small enclosure he's in has an opening spanning the entire front and it's covered with canvas, but it doesnt block the wind out when it lifts the material and flows in. He stands and lifts the canvas to see nothing but trees, almost stripped of their leaves in the late fall cold. He glances to his side to see a rifle standing against the wall and a thermos of coffee still steaming despite being left open while Elliot slept. 

There's a rustle in a cluster of chokeberry bushes near the blind and Elliot instinctively reaches for the rifle and lifts it as if he'd done this before. He presses the stock against his shoulder, wraps his hand around the wrist and lifts the barrel to the opening in the canvas to look down the sights. A buck's head, broad and crowned with ten points, rises up from the bushes and his wide eyes move straight to the opening of the blind, but he doesn't move. Elliot pulls the trigger and the animal falls to the frozen ground with a thump that's just barely audible in the gunshot's echo through the woods.

He turns and climbs down the ladder and walks to the fallen buck to find it's gone. There isn't even any blood from the bullet he was sure he'd seen hit the animal or even any prints to show the animal was there at all. Instead, when he looks up at the branches of the bush, he finds a plaid scarf that's saturated in blood that's still hot when he picks it up and lets it flow over his hands.

He's standing in a hotel room. 

"Do you think it means anything?"

Mr. Robot is stretched out on the bed, reading a beat up paperback copy of _The Tempest_. He doesn't look up from it when Elliot turns around and circles the bed to sit in the dusty chair beside it to observe the room. It's a typical motel room: yellowing drop ceiling and walls from years of cigarette smoke, a stiff bed with stiff sheets, carpet that's worn from hundreds of shoes shuffling over it, etc, etc. Mr. Robot turns another page and sighs heavily. On the table beside him, he has a record player going, but the needle's made it all the way to the label and it's just clicking at the edge and dropping back over and over and Mr. Robot doesn't bother to reach over to switch it off.

"You don't dream that often, do you?" Mr. Robot asks.

"No," Elliot says. You're usually at the helm when I think I'm asleep, is what he doesn't say.

Mr. Robot smiles knowingly, though, as if he can hear Elliot's thoughts directly now.

"When you do actually sleep, I mean," he says.

"No," Elliot says.

"You always dream, but you forget them. I think you'll remember this one," Mr. Robot says, still focused on his book. "You always remember the ominous ones."

He's in an airport at the baggage claim. 

The metal slats of the conveyor belt slowly slide across their track, but there isn't a single passenger here to claim any of the suitcases traveling along it. It stutters slightly when one of the suitcases tips over and jams the belt momentarily, but it starts back up soon enough. From beside him, Mr. Robot reaches out and picks up a large suitcase with a wide red ribbon tied around the handle, sets it on its wheels and then takes Elliot's hand. He can't tell which of them or if both of them had blood on their hands, but now it's shared between their palms as they walk.

"Remember when you and I flew together to see your Aunt and Uncle?" Mr. Robot asks.

"That wasn't you," Elliot says.

"Play along. Remember your nightmare on the plane?" Mr. Robot asks.

Elliot pauses. He thumbs through the pages of his memory and finds nothing.

"You told me you were dreaming that the plane was gonna crash and that's why you started sobbing when I woke you up, but that's not what it was, was it?"

"I don't know. I don't remember," Elliot says.

"You had a dream you were alone. Like this one," Mr. Robot says.

He leads the way past through the security checks where there are still shoes and cell phones in bins, but no one to claim them past the metal detectors. The airline counters are deserted too, some with baggage still sitting on the scale at the counter. There isn't a single frustrated traveler there to struggle with the check-in touchscreens or waiting for their Uber driver or hotel shuttle once they step out into the cold air outside. Mr. Robot looks to him and smiles warmly.

"I really do think you're gonna remember this one," he says.

Elliot wakes with a start in his room. He pauses to scan the room for anything that may be off and he sinks his hands into the sheets, trying to convince himself that what he's seeing and feeling is real. It's a hard sell for him, but he sits back against the wall, mostly satisfied that he's actually awake.


End file.
